


A Pirate's Life For Me

by RoseHeart



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 18th Century, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Pirates, Sexual Tension, The Royal Navy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 00:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5313431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseHeart/pseuds/RoseHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Brienne Tarth finds her naval ship trapped between two enemies in the pirate waters of the Caribbean.  Whom will she turn to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pirate's Life For Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SandwichesYumYum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandwichesYumYum/gifts).



> I wrote this a very long time ago! The plan was to write a one shot to get my head around the concept and one day I will expand to a WIP in this universe. I've done a lot of research and I had a lot of fun creating this. This was also for the quote challenge from a while past and I drew Tywin's dismissal of Jaime's tactical choices, which is at the end of this story. I can't find the link to connect this to the collection, though.
> 
> Anyway, I have gifted this to my eternal friend Sandwichesyumyum because she really inspired me to think outside of the canon box and the idea to make Brienne and Jaime's ship names mean something comes from her story Checklist, one of my all time favorites. Go read it now. But, more than that, this represents how much Sandwiches has molded my imagination and my enjoyment of writing, as well as my appreciation for the important things in life. Thank you, my teacher, my sunshine, my friend!
> 
> Coraleeveritas was so amazing to take the time from her writing to beta this for me. It was nice to send her something after a while of not writing, despite it having been completed so long ago. There is no relationship like that of a beta and her writer!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this! And for those of you who left me the wonderful comments on the last chapter of Nothing Is So, Is So, I WILL be replying to you! Thank you for your patience!
> 
> LLLLLLLOOOOOOOOVVVVVVVVEEEEEEEE!!!!!

The Caribbean water had always been a comfort for Brienne, slipping around her like a second skin, the force of the sea lifting her large hulking frame and making her feel graceful in her body. But now it was a cage with shackles and chains, frigid around her limbs as the heavy weight of the expansive ocean pulled her deeper.  Her sudden and violent entrance into the waves, which had been foaming like the maw of a ravenous dog, had turned her around, the debris and darkness that now surrounded her shattering all of her natural senses. The thunderous boom of wood and metal plunging into the brutal waters overwhelmed her and she was so cold her fingers tingled.  Yet her lungs burned with such a fire that she yearned to suck in the dense sea, quenching the heat and dragging her further from the dim sunlight piercing the ocean surface so far above her. 

While many sailors had drowned themselves in their panic and disorientation, Brienne had learned long ago to fight against the urge to give in.  Her father had taught her to quell the tide of fear.  She had seen him remain calm even when they were lost in an endless plain of placid blue, not a single breeze to help guide their way or swell their sails. She had learned how to fight, with hands, swords, or whatever weapon came to hand, ignoring the size and skills of her opponent, focusing only on what she knew: herself.  And then, he had thrown her overboard numerous times, forcing her to swim leagues until her tired body made it to a nearby shore. The Stranger was a sailor’s only constant companion and Selwyn Tarth had taught his daughter to sit across from its table and look it in the eye.  

So, despite aching, screaming muscles and her throat straining to force her mouth open, Brienne kicked her legs and slashed her hands through the water, propelling herself towards the surface. The sunlight flashed out of her sight, for a moment, as a fast, dark mass skimmed through the air and dived into the depths, streaking past her so fast she was caught up in the swirls and bubbles it created in its wake.  She watched the path of the sinking cannonball before it was swallowed up in the darkness below her.  

 _They are still firing_. 

Angrily, she moved faster, wasting time avoiding pieces sinking into the ocean while trying to avoid identifying what they were. None were bodies, she knew that, but she still mourned a death as she was encompassed by what was left of her beautiful ship. 

Finally, she broke the surface, pulling in gasps of air that were too shallow to fill her painful lungs.  As she gaped like a fish, desperately wheezing, she turned in circles to get her bearings.  There was pieces of planking and cloth floating lazily in the gentling undulations of the ocean, even more shards raining down around her.  She reached for a large pallet of wood that would hold her torso out of the water as she kicked further away, still struggling to breath properly. 

There had been no time to get further from the ship when she finally gave in and leapt from the deck. The rest of her crew had left on the lifeboats well before the fires had reached their secured gunpowder stores. They had dumped all the barrels they could, leaving them unarmed but still afloat.  Once the cannonballs started ripping through the sails and gouging holes in the port, though, the _HMS Hippolyta_ began taking on water.  Brienne had hoped that her father would not be disappointed when she had ordered her men to abandon ship.  She thought he would have smiled that, as the captain, she had refused to follow until she had fired the very last ten of their thirty two guns in the vain attempt at damaging their pursuer. 

Now, her glorious frigate was nothing but a burning mass of gnarled wood, slowly being consumed by the hungry seas. Brienne took some pleasure knowing that the Bloody Corsairs would not be able to pillage her, though she was sure they had been more intent on killing the crew, rather than pirating for treasures. There was little to steal on an fth ranked vessel of the Royal Navy.  But that ship had been her home and it had been her identity.  Watching it sink to the fathoms, never to glide across sapphire waters again, felt like a part of her was drowning as well. 

Pushing aside the loss, she continued to scan the waves, hoping to spot her crew.  The Corsairs were still focusing on the _Hippolyta_ , their galley, heavy and cumbersome, plowing slowly along, well away from Brienne on the other side of the sinking frigate. The sight of the smoke and flames rising from the forecastle and licking up the booms of the enemy ship gave her some satisfaction, but her belly dropped in fear for any slaves that the privateers may have picked up on the way to the Caribbean. 

They had been dodging _The Black Goat_ for days, barely escaping the first time the lone vessel had used a storm and the winds to sneak up leeward.  Brienne had tried to recover from her shock of finding the ship that had haunted her through the Mediterranean to come dogging her heels in the New World, far from back up.  During their escape, she had been convinced that they had been sent to find her by someone who must know her location, but the suspicion had been pushed to the back of her mind. 

Off further in the distance from where she was treading water, she spotted the other craft that Lieutenant Hunt had announced earlier. At the time, the sleek schooner had appeared on the horizon, Brienne had already been immersed in a fire fight with the Corsairs and had not given it much of her attention. But she had known, though she may not have wanted to accept it.  He always seemed to find her.  It was infuriating, considering how vast the waters were and how hard she tried to find him first. 

Seeing the pirate ship now, however, she was mixed with relief and concern.  The Kingslayer’s crimson and gold flag whipped in the wind, pulled high above the _Caledfwich_ ’s two masts, clearly visible to the Corsairs.  They would be wondering, just like Brienne, what Jaime Lannister was doing there, especially when the five guns on the port side were all trained on the galley. The crisp, sharp sails had been collapsed, dumping any wind they may have picked up in favor of remaining as still as possible in the seas, while the crew was busy pulling up the lifeboats from the _Hippolyta_. 

Drifting on her piece of debris, lungs still barely inflating with air, Brienne could see the captain himself, ridiculous golden hook reaching out to pat Midshipmen Podrick Payne’s shoulder as he used his only good hand to help the boy step onto the schooner’s deck. Hunt joined them and Brienne saw them gesture wildly back to her ship and where she lay, too tired to swim towards the _Caledfwich_ , barely clinging to consciousness enough not to slip back under the water. 

She hoped they would spot her amongst the wreckage. She hoped that Jaime Lannister had not followed her just to murder her and her crew.  She hoped, if she did live through this, that he would not remind her of his rescue for the rest of their lives.  It was strange to assume that they would know each other for so long.  But, then how much longer did either of them really have? Brienne was masquerading as a man to captain her father’s former Naval vessel, ordered to arrest Jaime, now a pirate on the run and wanted for the murder of King Aerys.  She had found out the truth, though, which made her even more dangerous to the rest of the Lannisters, which could explain the presence of _The Black Goat_ traversing so far from its home waters. Perhaps this truly was how it would all end. 

 _Perhaps Jaime had come to collect the debt_.  

It was the last thought that flitted through her oxygen-deprived mind before she blacked out.

 

  

The warm bright sun beating against her eyelids finally awoke her.  She blinked blearily, staring up at vivid blue skies, ballooned with white puffy clouds dragging across her vision by a constant breeze that stirred her salt crusted hair, caressed her burnt, freckled skin, and swung the wide, tight hammock she was laying on. Realizing she was alive, but no longer at sea, she hastily sat up, careful not to tip over, and tried to identify where she was. 

A shore was close by, tucked into a cove that fed the sea slowly, creating a small passage that was dug deeper into what must have been an island.  Crystal blue water reached up onto packed white sands, taking its time retreating back before curling upwards again.  The sounds of the unhurried waves and the wind playing through the blades of the palms that marked the edge of the beach, framing the entire inlet, lulled Brienne. She was captivated with the serenity and beauty of this place.  Even though she had always loved the Caribbean and the sprinkling of tiny islands that marred its azure face, she had never come across one that was just as stunning as the one in her dreams. 

It appeared that someone else had appreciated the magnificence and taken residence, as there was a large and sturdy hut off to her left. It was airy and open, white gauzy curtains floating in the open windows, shutters thrown wide to let the breeze cool the inside.  She could spot a grand table, strewn with mismatched chairs, and a large, heavy bookcase filled to spilling with volumes of writing.  There was a small wood stove and a large bed, which even had a dark headboard and piles of oriental cushions, making it all look well lived and loved. 

But no one stirred inside and Brienne had not a clue where she was or where her men could be.  A splash from the beach, disturbing the constant thrum of the wave breaks and vegetation rustling, drew her to find what must be the only other person on the island.  Jaime Lannister, captain of the _Caledfwich_ , the pirate known more notoriously as the Kingslayer, was emerging gracefully from the waves, clutching a spear with a large snapper writhing on the end. He was already looking at her, emerald gaze piercing her more thoroughly than the fish dying in his hands. 

Brienne forced the saliva that had begun pooling in her mouth, drowning her tongue, to slide down her dry throat. She tried to look defiant and annoyed, which she was, but she was terribly aware that she must appear to be gaping, which she also was.  Her and Jaime had always met in full uniform, which for him meant linen breeches, supple boots laced up to his knees, a loose tunic, leather vest, and a rich jacket that looked very much like her own naval coat, complete with gold buttons. There was also usually a layer of belts laden with a sword and daggers, as well as straps running up his right arm to keep the hook fastened to the end of his stumped wrist. 

Now, though, Jaime was stripped of all those articles and with it went all of the titles.  He was simply Jaime, the man she had come to know was more than the reputation his father and his former peers had labeled him with. He was fiercely loyal to his crew, to his honor, and to his own truth.  Brienne knew he was a king slayer, but she could no longer think that she would not have done the same, once she had discovered the whole story. Yet though all of this allowed her to clearly see Jaime Lannister, it also left her with nothing to hide behind when her body and her heart reacted to the sight of him. 

It had been unbearable when on the deck of a ship, but she could hardly breathe now, being able to take in his almost naked body. Jaime was sloshing through the shore, making his way towards where she was rooted in the hammock. He was only clad in pants that had been cut above his knees, giving him room to swim without being dragged down by the fabric around his ankles.  The water had soaked in the linen and pulled down the waist, exposing a trail of soft dark golden hair that traipsed from Jaime’s belly and the hint of tight muscles, down past deep divots cut low into his hips.  Despite how precariously his only covering was hanging off his body, Jaime made no move to pull up his breeches.  He was too intent upon studying her, a soft but feral smile twitching on his bronzed features.  

Huffing at the clear enjoyment he was experiencing watching her blush and flounder, Brienne crossed her arms and forced herself to look away from him.  In her mind’s eye, though, she could still vividly make out the beads of salt water that ran down the hard muscle of his chest, collecting in the hair running between his taut nipples before following the curves of his stomach.  She may never be able to forget the flex of his arms as he carried his catch to her, or the power of his legs as he easily slid through the current. 

“I thought you would sleep all day again, wench,” came the deep rumbling voice of Jaime Lannister.  He was close and she turned back to him just as he thrust the end of the spear into the sand next to one of the palm trees that held her hammock. 

“That’s ‘Captain Tarth’ to you,” Brienne rasped, finding her throat still parched and her voice tremulous.  It must be from the salt water she had probably inhaled. 

He rolled his eyes at her stubbornness, as well as frowned at the sound of her trying to speak.  “I’ll get you some water.  Stay here.” 

Brienne sighed as she felt released from his gaze. Jaime Lannister looked like a god.   She knew that. She had seen whores and ladies flutter around him like moths attracted to his golden light.  He had denied them all and she knew why now, though she had not then.  But it was not his body that truly captivated her.  With all that he had endured and done, Jaime’s eyes should have been dark and guarded, but there had been no need to hide the truths shining so clear behind them, since few really cared to look.  Brienne had, thinking that she would search and come up finding just a shallow pond. Instead, he was a deep abyss, vast and exposed to her and she could read his almost every thought, save those which he had about her.  Then he closed her off. 

It was unnerving, though, how often he allowed her to look at him because it seemed as if he was taking the opportunity to study her as well.  Few people had ever looked her in the eye, distracted by her ugly features to pay her the proper respects of direct contact.  But Jaime had sought her gaze out every time they met.  And it was her undoing. 

He returned with a dented tin cup filled with clear water that tasted of the earth.  Brienne sucked it down greedily and attempted to clear her throat, testing her voice a bit. 

With the frown still plastered on his tanned face, lines cracking the smooth plain of skin and the hint of a beard, Jaime took back the cup.  He was too intent upon watching her to notice how her large hands shook as she handed over the handle and how she shivered when his fingers so easily caressed her own.  "I told you not to go to the Tortugas." 

"And I told you I _wasn't_ going." Brienne had not enjoyed blatantly lying to Jaime, but a pirate had no business knowing the route of a naval ship and she had been too shocked to find him privy to their course to feel guilty for the flat denial. 

"Yet, here I find you, stepping right into the Bloody Corairs's trap," he angrily spat.  With a burst of fury, he threw the cup into the forest behind the hut. 

She watched it disappear, her attention once again directed at their whereabouts.  "Where are my men?" 

"Don't think to change the subject, wench." 

"I'm not going to have an argument with you about my orders," she huffed, coughing a bit from the stale air in her lungs scratching up her throat. 

"Your orders wouldn't mean much at the bottom of the sink," Jaime snarled a reply.  He finally looked away, choosing to pace the sand by the hammock. 

"How did you know it was a trap, Jaime?" 

He stopped, surveying her bodily once, before snorting and resuming carving a channel into the shore.  "Stark is too trusting of the navy." 

" _Admiral_ Stark has seen no need not to be," Brienne defended. 

"No? He certainly didn't trust me when I was under his command.  And he shouldn't trust my father." Jaime arched a blonde eyebrow at her. 

"Your father sent the Corsairs after the _Hippolyta_?" It had been a thought tickling the back of her mind, but she had not allowed it to bury deeper. 

"Don't be absurd," he laughed, the sound starting as a rumble in his chest, bobbing the ball on his throat, and bursting through his mouth.  "He can't trust those extremists.  He sent me, though." Brienne raptly watched him, surrounded by the frivolity of his mirth, wrapped in the humidity and the cooling breeze.  It was so easy, here and now, with him, easier than it should have been, especially knowing he should have come to kill them, but still easier than with any other soul she had encountered. 

"Where are my men?" She demanded again. 

"Seven buggering hells, Brienne, they're safe. They're on the _Caledfwch_ , making their way to the nearest port that I could find where my father doesn’t have his spies.  It'll have to take some time before I can get you a replacement ship." 

"The navy will issue me another frigate," Brienne mumbled. 

"If you want to hunt pirates, wench, you have to look like one from afar.  That shiny beauty was a warning leagues away," he tipped his head. "She was magnificent, though, Captain. I'm sorry to have seen her go." 

"She was a great ship," Brienne sighed. _The last hold I had of Father_. "Why are you helping?" 

" _Helping_? I just saved the lives of all of your crew and defied my father. What else do you bloody want from me to earn your trust?" There was the slightest glimmer of pain swept up in the tide of anger that was filling Jaime's gaze.  He turned away from her again, storming down the shore. 

Brienne scrambled to escape from the hammock and to rush after him.  She did trust him, but she just could not understand it all, especially the way her heart hammered in her chest whenever she heard his name and how he looked at her as if she could possibly capture every interest that Jaime Lannister could bestow. He looked at her like a fellow captain, like a friend, and even like a desirable woman at times. It all sent her mind reeling and she had no way of navigating the treacherous waters they were sailing into. 

"Jaime," she began. He ignored her. "I need to know why. I trust you, but I'm confused-" 

He whirled around, lashes lowered though she could see dark clouds blotting out his bright green eyes.  "I need to know why, too." He stepped towards her. 

She refused to back away, despite her mind was screaming at her to do so.  "Why what?" 

There was a flash of a troubling grin, which revealed that Brienne had inadvertently fallen right into his trap. But in the next moment, she was in his arms, his naked chest pressing against the thin linen of her tunic, heating her blood and wrapping her up in his torso.  She gasped, overcome with the sensations and the shock that were coursing through her so soon after having awoken from her near drowning. If she had been more aware, she may have followed the instinct to pull away, but a baser desire kept her planted beneath his hands. 

Jaime used the chance to tilt his head and lock his warm, pliant lips around her mouth.  Brienne tried to protest, but he captured her words, inhaling them with her breath as he pressed himself against her, swallowing her hesitation. She was surprised to realize that she could taste him, a heady mixture of sweat and salt and a sweetness like honeyed water, which lingered on the tip of her tongue as she fought against the urge to lick his lips and gather more of the flavor. 

She could have never imagined a kiss would be so encompassing.  The tainted history of the two of them washed away, his touch bathing her like a fresh, clean rain shower, drowning out the world until there was just the two of them and the simplicity of how they fit together.  His right arm was running soothing circles around her back and side, as if he was trying to calm a skittish horse.  But his single hand was everywhere, fingers marking every inch of her he could reach, before settling on combing her brittle hair and massaging her head. He held her like she was something precious and important, or so she had imagined, since she had little experience with such feelings.  But his comforting arms loosened her own hold on her heart.  

When she heard herself moaning at the sound of his excited breathing against her cheek, she found that she had implanted one hand in his own golden locks, still damp from his swim and dripping fresh saltwater over their kisses.  Jaime did not seem to mind that her other hand was digging crescents into his skin, flitting between laying claim to his body and trying to memorize every curve and scar and edge of him.  She was tracing the lines of his past and carving new paths of his future. 

Dizzy with the sun beating down on them, blood rushing into her ears and plummeting from her head, Brienne felt her knees buckle. Thankfully, Jaime held her tight, following her down to the warm sand while he enflamed her flesh with wet kisses along her neck and behind her wide, red ear. 

“Why did you let me kiss you?” he breathed huskily, his voice alone sending pleasurable shivers down her legs, tangled up in his own. 

“I-“ She tried to control the waver in her tone, still reeling from finding herself on a beach with Jaime Lannister laving attention on her.  “I didn’t have much choice.” 

He frowned down at her, then brushed back her hair tenderly and continued to run a finger down her cheek, tracing a pattern of freckles. “You always have a choice, Brienne. You let me in.” 

“I told you, Jaime.  I-I _do_ trust you.” 

His gaze landed on the scar on her cheek and he grimaced, though she could not tell if it was from the hideous twisting of her skin or the story behind it.  “Why?” 

Sighing, Brienne turned away to look down at the empty expanse of beach.  “I found the files…the ones about what King Aerys had been planning and-and” 

“And?” Jaime barked.  She could not understand why he was angry or why his hold of her was suddenly crushing. 

“The missing slavers, their freed bounties. That’s why I had to go to the islands, to speak to the people you rescued.” 

"Hmm," Jaime rumbled, tucking his head to nip at the well below her collar, a spot she had always tried to cover with her tunics. "Who's to say that I was the one to free them?" 

Brienne smiled, though he was too preoccupied running the stubble of his cheeks against her skin to watch it prickle with the contact and anticipation.  "Is there more than one single handed pirate that looks like a god?" 

Jaime looked up at her then, grinning triumphantly, and she could not help the swoop in her stomach from having him appear so pleased and at ease with her.  It felt like she was on her ship, bracing her legs against the hull falling down the crest of a large swell.  Snatching up some bravery, she allowed her hands to roam the muscles on his back. "Their words, not mine." 

“I'm sure I could convince you of them, wench," Jaime chuckled. 

"My name is Brienne." 

He growled a bit and Brienne wished she was brave enough to meet him part way as he lowered his head to consume her in another kiss. His tongue snaked out to run along the inside of her top lip and when it swept across the corner of her mouth, she jolted at the pleasure that coursed through her.  She tried not to seem like a shy maid when she felt his desire dig into her hip, fighting the urge to skitter away like a crab across the beach. 

He groaned at the pressure of being trapped between their heated bodies.  "Brienne," he sighed into her ear.  She shivered again, holding him tightly and reveling in the feel of his smooth, briney skin against the coarse sand that pebbled their flesh.  "Gods, I've wanted you for ages it feels."

 _Ages?_ Ages would have meant he desired her when she had put a gun to his temple and threatened to send him overboard if he did not surrender.  He had chosen to jump rather than been taken back to Britain. And she had been forced to return empty handed, cursing and hating everything that there was about the Kingslayer. It certainly felt like ages ago, as she was happily humming into Jaime’s shoulder now, allowed to take salty licks of him. 

"How did you find out that King Aerys was ...?" 

Jaime groaned.  "There'll be time for explanations later, I'm sure. It's in the past and I will have to live the rest of my life fleeing from it." 

" _Wrongly_ ," Brienne interjected. 

He rolled off her and stood, holding his hand out to help her rise as well.  She felt indignant about the gesture and lost without his touch.  She got up on her own, brushing off the sand from her trousers as Jaime laughed and retracted his fingers. 

"Come back with me and testify, Jaime," she demanded. 

The mirth fell from his face and he glared at her. "No." 

She was sure he meant for it to sound stern and final, but she refused to give up.  "You shouldn't have to keep running." 

"No one would believe me, Brienne, and my father would make sure of it.  He can use me much better as a pirate than he did when I was a commodore. And I can do more good thwarting him as what I am now." 

"You don't deserve this, though." 

"No, I deserve much worse." Jaime's expression clouded and he could no longer meet her stare.  “I’ve done terrible things, don’t deny that.” 

“I haven’t,” she argued.  “It's my duty to bring you in, Jaime, and whether you come willingly or not, I _will_ arrest you." 

He looked at her, at first appearing annoyed and amused, before his emotions were blocked behind clenched teeth that set his jaw twitching.  He was being stubborn and defiant, but she would not back down or let Jaime Lannister impede her from fulfilling her orders.  It would be such a simple thing to bring him in and prove his innocence.  And then they would both be free. 

"You aren’t in much of a position to arrest me now, are you, Captain Tarth?" he finally husked, voice belying a dangerous lust underneath the threat. 

"You would not hurt me," Brienne countered.  She hoped she sounded confident but they had already made it clear to each other that in certain instances, they would both attack.

"No?" Jaime snorted.  He saw her understand his meaning and then shrugged his shoulders, heading back to the hut.  "Come on, Brienne, you've been running you and your crew ragged trying to track down my hideout, don't you want to enjoy it?" 

She gasped, trudging after him through the sand.  When she caught up, she could see the mischief peppering his grin.  "This can't be it." 

"The entire island, wench.  It's all mine." 

Brienne looked around, taking in the veiled cove and the forest lined beach.  She could not see any other land masses from the recessed shore and she doubted even a ship that was skirting the island would find this spot.  It was well concealed, making it feel comfortable and private.  She could see why Jaime had chosen it and it was clear by how well provisioned it was that he resided here often.  For a fleeting moment, she imagined spending time with him there, just the two of them. 

"Why would you reveal the location to me?" she asked as he entered the hut.  She lingered on the outside, afraid and excited by what could happen should she step over the threshold and entire the lion's den. 

Jaime appeared again quickly enough, holding a bottle of amber liquid in the crook of one elbow and two small cups in his hand.  He grinned at her once more and proceeded to walk down to the water.  "You'll never be able to find this place again," he called back. 

Brienne snorted at that and followed him.  "You think I couldn't track our route when we leave here? Even blinded folded, I would know our course." 

"I'm well aware of your navigation skills." Jaime plopped down onto the sand with his feet stuck out in the surf, just enough for the waves to lick his heels.  He set the items in his lap and motioned for her to join him, patting the ground right next to his hip with his stump.  "Unfortunately, you are lacking in other expertise and I have not kept this place hidden for years out of luck."  Brienne sank down next to him, allowing their shoulders to touch as she stretched out to watch her longer legs swallowed up by the frothy water.  "Though you are the first person I've brought here." 

Brienne tried not to focus on the small rise of pleasure she had in knowing that.  Instead she concentrated on Jaime as he handed her the cups while he poured the liquid into each of them.  He left the bottle unstopped and buried it partially in the sand where he could reach it. Then he took one of the cups, purposefully pressing his fingers into hers before transferring it to his hand.  He smiled, knowing now he could touch her and knowing he would take full advantage to do so.  She only frowned back at the cocky haze in his green eyes. 

"What is this?" Brienne asked, sniffing her drink. 

"Rum, wench! The gold of the Caribbean!" He clinked his cup against hers and threw back the liquid in a single swallow. 

Brienne blushed watching as he exposed his neck and his golden hair flew back.  He winked at her and then reached to take the bottle again.  But she just stared down in to the amber.  She had only ever had wine at social events, not having a taste for it and having seen firsthand what strong liquors could do to a man.  She had no idea what the appeal was to rum but it certainly was the currency of the islands. 

Taking a breath, she mimicked Jaime, finishing the drink in one large, burning gulp.  She had to gasp and wipe her nose and eyes as tears welled from the strength of it, fighting not to let it come back up. 

Jaime laughed and poured more into both their cups, his balanced between his knees as Brienne could barely focus to place her own under the lip of the bottle. 

"This is awful," she grimaced as she watched him tip back another swallow.  "Why would anyone enjoy this?" 

"You grow a taste for it," Jaime chuckled.  "You'll be enjoying it more soon enough.  And we had to have something to celebrate with." 

Brienne grew weary.  "Celebrate what?" 

"Us being here, alive."  He gave her that smile again, the one that held so much promise it felt dangerous, letting herself believe it was only for her.   But she had seen him around other women, around his sister, and he offered them nothing like what he loosely threw to her. If she caught it, he would give her everything.  "And don't forget this..." He leaned over so that his stump was holding him up as he caught her bottom lip, sucking it and teasing her with the prickles he incited that rushed straight from her mouth down her body. 

She tried to return the kiss, using her teeth to suck his lip further between her own and feeling foolish for doing so.  But it must have been alluring as he growled appreciatively and tore himself away, breathing heavily and fighting for control as he laved the freckles on her ear with the spear point of his tongue.  She could not fathom how ragged and shallow his breaths were, just from kissing her, as they echoed against her.  But she knew her own were just as fluttering. 

“The rum adds a lovely flavor to you, wench,” Jaime murmured across her red skin. He buried himself in the collar of her tunic, trying to claim every patch of exposed flesh he could reach. “I wonder how the rest of you tastes.” 

Brienne gasped, flushing from his touch and words, angry at herself for providing his amusement such maidenly reactions.  With gentle force, she pushed him away and took another large swallow of the rum, hoping it would consume the fire that Jaime had ignited in her face and upper torso. Instead, though, she became unsure if she was starting to feel light headed from the liquor or from the man watching her, green eyes focused on the way her tunic and breeches stuck to her sweating skin. 

When he felt her gaze, he looked up at her, chuckling as he finished his cup as well. He reached for the bottle, drawing Brienne’s stare to how empty it was now, and poured more for them. 

“I think I have had enough, Jaime,” she protested, finding it difficult to wrap her tongue around her words.  It was exhausting, lying out in the sun, with the warm sand under her body and the sound of the soft waves filling their silences.  She felt like she was floating in the surf, lifted not by the salt water but by the intoxicating presence of Jaime’s nearly naked body pressed so close to her and the rum filling her mind with salacious thoughts of being alone with him on his island. 

“Relax, Brienne,” he slurred.  He smiled, the alcohol turning his regard glassy like a calm day at sea, and she could not stop herself from glancing at his pink lips and white teeth, stifling a moan when he innocently bit into his grin.  Making sure that she was still trained on him, he began to lean back, using his right arm to support himself as he lowered further to the beach. 

Brienne did not realize at first that her body was following him and she was also laying down.  When her back was met with soft sand, Jaime rose slightly to loom above her, blocking out the beating sun, cooling her skin while inflaming her insides.  She blinked, trying to keep him in focus, but it was becoming so difficult to keep her eyes open. 

“Jaime…”she sighed, hoping that he heard the confusion in her tone. 

“I’ll never get tired of hearing my name on those full lips,” he groaned, ducking down to run his mouth against hers. “You’re fine, probably just tired from your dip in the sink and all that rum.” He laughed a bit more loudly and uncontrollably than before.  “That was a lot of rum.” 

“I need to get back to the crew,” she reminded him. It was in that moment, as she was eclipsed by his imposing figure, realizing that she was drunk and stranded with him, that she felt panic churning to the surface.  Yet, she could not find the desire to get her arms and legs to move. She felt safe, though it was becoming clouded with her rumbling annoyance. 

“Rest, wench, and when you wake up, you will be back on land with all of your men.” He kissed her cheek and then her temple. It felt comforting and alarming at the same time, causing her stomach to lurch with uncertainty. “Well, all save myself. I fear we will have to be parted for a while.” 

“You have to come back with me,” she demanded. “I will hunt you down or-or wait for you on this island.” 

Jaime snorted.  “I have every intention of having you back in my arms and all to myself here at home,” he husked, taking a moment to dip again to taste her eager lips. “But not until you’ve given up this honorable notion of pulling my name out of the refuse.  For now, unfortunately, you won’t be coming back.” 

“You-“, Brienne was interrupted by a yawn that she could not force back.  Her eyes closed as her body relaxed and she kept them that way as she tried to continue arguing with him.  “You can’t-“ She felt him run a long finger around her ear and down her neck. “-stop me.” 

“I remember the first time Tyrion and I snuck rum into Casterly,” Jaime murmured, stretching out next to her, but holding onto her hand, grounding her from floating too far away.  “We hid in the pantry and drank so much that we fell asleep where we sat.  I woke up hours later in my father’s study without a clue what had passed in the interim.” Brienne’s eyes were still closed, but she felt him move his head so that he was looking at her and she was glad she could block out his expression. “We will have a much needed nap, wench, here where I have dreamed of you.  And then, you will have no recollection of the trip from this island to your destination.” 

“Bastard.” She tried to put some venom into it, but it came out tired and slurred, making Jaime laugh again. Frowning, she recalled his father and the events that had led to her nearly falling asleep on Captain Lannister’s secret hideaway.  “What will you say to your father about my escape?” 

Sighing, Jaime squeezed her hand. “I will tell him the truth, that you were already being attacked and weakened and it would not have been a fair fight.  I want to be on equal waters when I come to blows with you, wench.” 

“I doubt your father will like that, the Kingslayer worrying about appearances.” 

“No, but he won’t be so surprised. I’m sure he will be relieved to know I had to flee the Bloody Corsairs rather than try to fight them off from their prize.” 

“They tried to attack you?” Brienne frowned, opening one bleary eye to find Jaime facing her, but with his own eyes closed. 

“I told you they couldn’t be trusted,” Jaime said. “But I had your injured crew and you, bleeding and unconscious, to worry about.  Otherwise I would have fought back and _Caledfwch_ would probably have joined the _Hippolyta_ at the bottom of the sink.” 

Brienne allowed a soft laugh, allowing her eye to shut again. “What will your father say to _that_?” 

“Oh, I imagine something about the fortune of my vanity getting in the way of my recklessness.” 

“He wouldn’t be wrong.” 

As she started to let the surf and the sun pick her up and drift her out onto the sea of slumber, taking Jaime with her, she heard his drunken mumbling by her ear.  “All that matters is you know who I am, Brienne.  And we can come back here.  Home.”

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and I know nothing.


End file.
